Tonight we had our last jam session before my move to Texas (the day after Christmas). In addition to several musicians that I’ve known for up to 31 years, there were other friends going back as far as 1968. We’ve been here in the Monterey area for over 22 years continuously this time–ever since I retired from the Army, and even after my wife’s stroke pretty much immobilized me over six years back, these were the folks who still came to visit and to pick and sing a little–almost every week.
We had a potluck supper. Lots more food was brought than was eaten. We talked while we ate, then started the music. This close to Christmas, several musician friends couldn’t make it, but we had mandolin, banjo, and two guitars.
We played our favorite fiddle tunes and sang our favorite Bluegrass and Old-timey songs, and I even got out my Busman Delrin to play “Fireball Mail” with the banjo player, a very jazzy “Summertime” with the other flatpicker, and a couple of Chinese tunes for our Cantonese friend.
Finally folks had to start heading for home (the oldest was in his mid-80s, and he gave out first). The musicians stuck it out the longest, but eventually they had to go, too. By 11:30, they were all gone. Chances are good that I’ll never see any of them again.
I’m glad that I managed to keep the tears back until after the last car had pulled away–but they’re free to flow now… ![]()